We Three Queens
by bananabreakdowns
Summary: The Carla Connor/Ronnie Mitchell/Charity Dingle crossover that nobody asked for but everyone deserves.


**A/N: Let's just pretend that, for arguments sake, Ronnie is still alive and is running R&R. Carla is still the owner of Underworld and Charity is landlady of the Woolpack as normal.**

**Trigger warning: Mentions of miscarriage, infant death, and serious sexual assault.**

Carla sat in the back of the cab, invitation clutched between her fingers: nails freshly painted in a french manicure style. She hadn't wanted to attend the event, but Peter had successfully convinced her otherwise. It was just a shame she had only received the one invite, with 'no plus-ones permitted' printed clearly in bold lettering at the bottom. Despite this, Peter had encouraged her to go along.

"After all, its not everyday you're nominated for Most Influential Businesswoman of the year, is it?" He had said, rubbing her back as they curled up together on the sofa. She had thought about it, and decided to take the plunge.

She thanked the driver as she climbed out of the taxi, handing him a twenty pound note. She'd forgotten how expensive London cabs were. She strutted into the building before her as quickly as her Jimmy Choo's would allow: seeking an escape from the bitter chill of the September evening.

Once inside, she approached the doorman. He took her invitation gratefully, reading the card, before looking up at her once again.

"Welcome, Mrs Connor, and congratulations on your nomination! Right this way!" He chimed, plastering a beaming smile across his face, motioning for her to follow him into the main hall. Carla rolled her eyes. It was going to be one of _those _evenings.

She followed him through the room, dodging round tables, struggling to keep up in her heels. She silently scolded herself for wearing her highest pair, and hoped that she wouldn't have to hobble over to the stage to collect an award.

The doorman stopped, before pointing to a table in the corner.

"You're over there." He stated. "Enjoy your evening!"

Carla glanced towards the table as the doorman walked away. It was already occupied by two blondes making small talk. _Great..._ Carla thought, rolling her eyes as she made her way towards the table. _Just what I need._

As she approached, she noticed a little piece of ornate paper sitting behind the dinner set by the empty chair. It had her name typed in a fancy cursive font.

She smiled as the two women looked up.

"Hi..." She said, still standing awkwardly beside the chair. She quickly sat down, as the taller of the two women spoke.

"Hi. You must be Carla." She said, motioning to the piece of paper. Carla nodded. "I'm Ronnie. Ronnie Mitchell." She extended a slender hand, which Carla shook confidently. Maybe if she treated this like a business dinner, which she supposed it was, in a way, then it wouldn't be so difficult to get through.

"Nice to meet you." She stated, out of obligation, more than anything.

"Ooh, another Northerner!" The second blonde perked up, upon hearing Carla speak. "Where abouts are you from?"

"Just outside Manchester." Carla said. She usually settled for this description, as not many people seemed to have heard of Weatherfield. The woman narrowed her eyes.

"Oh..." She said, mysteriously. Carla raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"Yorkshire Dales..." She replied. Carla nodded, satisfied with this explanation.

"Ah." She said. She glanced at Ronnie, who looked confused.

"I'm sensing some Northern rivalry..." She laughed, taking a swig of wine from her glass. "Would you like some?" She asked, holding up the bottle towards Carla.

"Please." Carla smiled. As Ronnie poured the red liquid into Carla's glass, the other woman took the time to introduce herself.

"I'm Charity Dingle. Landlady of the Woolpack Pub in Emmerdale. What is it you do then?"

"I run a factory." Carla stated.

"Wow..." Ronnie said, sounding genuinely impressed. "That must take a lot of work."

Carla shrugged. "Well, you know. Meetings, deadlines, a dozen of your neighbours relying on you to pay their bills. The usual." She laughed. "What about you?"

"I've got a nightclub with my sister, Roxy. It's called R&R, for obvious reasons. She's the one who nominated me for this, actually."

"That's sweet of her." Carla responded, politely, taking a sip from her glass.

"What about you?" Ronnie prompted. Carla shrugged.

"I'm not sure..." She'd suspected Peter, although, when interrogated, he'd insisted it hadn't been him.

"My kids nominated me. Well, the older ones, anyway. I think it was some sort of practical joke." Charity chimed in.

"How many have you got?" Ronnie asked, sounding genuinely curious. Carla noticed Charity's face soften.

"Four." She stated, a smile creeping through her lips. "Well five, if you count Johnny. He's my fiancé's." She explained. Carla raised an eyebrow.

"That must be a handful..." She laughed. She remembered how difficult Simon had been as a youngster, and couldn't imagine having to deal with five.

"Not really. My eldest two are 29 and 30, so it's just the youngest ones I have to worry about."

"You don't look old enough." Carla stated, before quickly realising what she'd said. "Not that I'm judging or 'owt. My best friend was only 15 when she had her son." She rambled, in a desperate attempt to backtrack. Charity simply laughed.

"I was 13 when I had Debbie..." She explained. Her eyes fell to the glass clutched in her hands, blonde curls falling in front of her face. "I had to give her up for adoption. But she found me when she was a teenager, and I'm so glad she did." She lifted her head, planting a smile across her face. "I don't know what I'd do without her now..." She laughed.

"I know how that feels..." Ronnie chirped up, receiving a pair of confused glances. "I had my first at 13, too. I called her Amy, but she was brought up as Danielle. Long story short, I spent years believing she'd died, and the day I found out who she really was, she was hit by a car."

Carla glanced at Charity, a horrified look on her face. They sat for a moment, speechless, before Charity spoke.

"Was she okay?" She whispered. Ronnie shook her head.

"She's been gone ten years now."

"I'm so sorry..." Charity breathed. She noticed Ronnie's hand resting on the tabletop, and placed her own gently on top of it, in a minor attempt at comfort. Charity knew all too well the pain of believing your child was dead, only to discover years later that they were in fact alive. All those lost years were something she could never get back: but at least she still had the chance to make it up to Ryan.

"It's fine." Ronnie said, forcing a smile. She turned to Carla. "What about you? Have you got any kids?"

Carla snorted. "No. Although there is my boyfriend's son, Simon." She stated firmly, before that familiar pang of guilt washed over her once again. "And..." She shook her head, not sure she wanted to go into it. Although, these women she barely knew, and would probably never see again, had just opened up to her. She felt sure they wouldn't mind her mentioning her. She glanced up from where her eyes had been fixed on the table in front of her. Ronnie nodded encouragingly. "I mean... I was pregnant once. A little girl." She wasn't really sure why she was saying it. She hadn't talked about her in years, not even to Peter. And yet, there was something about these two women that made her feel comfortable. It was like they just got it. Got her. "I would like another one, I suppose. I just... I don't know."

"I know how that feels, too." Ronnie said, pouring herself another glass of wine, before offering the bottle around. "I had a miscarriage after Danielle. It's an awful thing to have to go through, but there is still hope. I've been pregnant since, and, whilst you still worry all the way through it, there is a light at the end." She took another sip, before continuing. "Sorry, I must seem like one of those people that makes everything about them." She laughed, awkwardly. Carla shook her head.

"No, don't be silly. It's nice to talk to people who get it." She said. She suddenly felt quite vulnerable, and decided to turn the focus away from herself. "What about your other kids?" She asked Ronnie.

"Well now I've got Matthew, he's four, and quite the handful." She laughed. "And I've adopted my niece, Amy. And I also have a stepson, Richard. And then there's James. He died the day after he was born, but I still like to include when I talk about my children, you know? He was still my son, even if he wasn't around for very long."

There was a brief silence as the women each took a sip of their drinks.

"I think we're going to need another one of these..." Carla stated, holding up the empty bottle. As if on cue, a waiter approached, carrying a tray of bottles. He swiftly replaced the empty one, before sauntering off again.

"I've got an idea to make this evening a bit more interesting..." Charity smirked, topping up her glass.

"Oh really? " Carla raised an eyebrow, as Charity passed the bottle to Ronnie. "You sound about as excited to be here as I am."

"Let's play 'Never Have I Ever'!" She grinned. Carla smirked. She wasn't one to turn down a drinking game.

"Okay then." She agreed, grabbing her glass.

"And how do you play that?" Ronnie asked.

"Right, so someone says, 'I have never...' And then fills in the blank with something they've never done. If anyone on the table has done it, then they drink..."

"Oh yeah, I have played this before!" Ronnie nodded, picking up her glass.

"The only catch is, you're not allowed to explain the answer. You either drink or you don't, no questions asked." Charity finished.

"Fine by me." Carla said.

"Okay, I'll go first!" Ronnie stated, enthusiastically. "I have never taken drugs."

"How hardcore are we talking?" Carla asked, narrowing her eyes. Ronnie laughed.

"Why, what have you taken?"

"That's for me to know, and you to never find out!" Carla smirked, taking a swig of wine, thinking back to a time in her early twenties when she and Michelle had had a little _too_ much fun at a party.

"I accidentally shot myself with horse tranquilliser once. Does that count?" Charity mused. Carla snorted.

"You're the most unbelievable woman I've ever met." Ronnie laughed, shaking her head. "Your turn, Carla."

Carla thought for a moment.

"I have never been to prison." She stated, confidently.

"It's a bit early in the game for that one, don't you think?" Ronnie laughed, as Charity took a gulp. She looked down at the glass, before shrugging and taking another one.

"Says you, playing the drugs card on round one!" Carla retorted. Ronnie rolled her eyes, taking a sip.

Carla glanced between the pair, regretting agreeing to this 'no explanations' rule. For all she knew, she could be sitting across from a pair of murderers.

"Okay, my turn!" Charity sang, excitedly. "I have never..." She thought for a moment, trying to think of something interesting that she hadn't actually done. "... Had sex in a shower." She finished, grinning smugly.

Ronnie snorted, taking a long sip of her drink. Carla's jaw dropped, while Charity threw her head back, roaring with laughter.

"You naughty girl!" She exclaimed, once she'd recovered. "I expected that from her, if anyone!" She nodded towards Carla, who shook her head, laughing.

"What's that like?" She asked, in a lowered voice.

"No explanations!" Ronnie laughed, holding her hands up in mock surrender. Carla raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay... It was very steamy..." She smirked.

Ronnie was relieved to hear the sound of someone tapping on a microphone from the front of the room, saving her from anymore explanation.

"Welcome to the annual Women In Business Awards..." The host began, receiving a simultaneous groan from Charity and Carla. Ronnie laughed.

"How about we sack this off and paint the town red instead?" Charity suggested, leaning into the table so only the other two women could hear. Carla laughed.

"Where would we go?"

"Didn't you say you own a club?" Charity smirked at Ronnie.

"Well yeah, but it's a while away." She stated. "Besides, I'm hungry, and I'm pretty sure we're about to get a three course meal..."

"Can't we get the Underground?" Charity pushed.

"Absolutely not. I don't do public transport." Carla stated, turning her nose up instantly at the idea. "I'd rather go thirds on a taxi."

"Some of us are clearly more successful businesswomen than others then..." Charity sniggered. Carla rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same.

"Are we doing this then, or not?" She asked, grabbing her black clutch from the table. Charity chuckled.

"That's my girl!"

"But-" Ronnie began to protest.

"We'll get a kebab, Ronald. Now, come on..." Charity said, grabbing Ronnie's hand and pulling her out of her seat. Ronnie smiled at the nickname. It was something Roxy had always called her. There was something about this extroverted blonde that reminded her of her little sister.

The three of them crept along the wall of the ballroom, and out of the door into the foyer. Giggling like schoolgirls, they rushed out of the building and into the brightly lit london street.

They walked arm in arm along the pavement, like teenagers that had been friends since infancy. There was something that had attracted these women to each other. They were so similar in so many ways, it was as if they were sisters separated at birth.

Ronnie waved her left arm, hailing the first available black cab they saw. They clambered into the back single file.

"Albert Square, please." Ronnie requested.

"With a stop at a kebab shop of your choice!" Charity called to the driver, causing Carla to burst out laughing. She elbowed Charity, before opening up her coat. Tucked inside, under her arm, was a half full bottle of red.

"We are gonna be absolutely sloshed before we even get there!" Ronnie laughed.

"I'm already halfway there..." Charity giggled.

Carla took a swig straight from the bottle, causing the two women in the back of the cab to laugh even harder. She passed the bottle along, and watched as each of them did the same.

"Well... I didn't expect tonight to turn out like this..." Ronnie laughed some time later, cradling an empty kebab box.

Carla let out a dirty giggle, leaning her head back against the headrest and allowing her eyes to drift closed. The car felt very much like a boat, bobbing up and down over waves. The red wine had well and truly kicked in.

The cab lurched to a stop, sending Charity and Carla jolting forwards.

"Thank you!" Ronnie chimed, somewhat chirpier than before the final bottle of red. She took a £20 note from each of her fellow travelling companions before handing them over to the driver.

Charity climbed out of the car first, looking up at the building before her: neon sign lighting up the arches under which the building was nestled. It was bustling with people, all seemingly a lot younger than herself, both spilling out of the club and queuing to get in. She felt Ronnie usher her and Carla to the front of the queue, past the bouncer on the door, and into the dimly lit entrance corridor of the club.

"Welcome to my empire!" She shouted over the drum and bass music that was pounding through the building. She led her guests through the club, into the VIP section through the double doors at the back. She settled them down into a booth, before heading towards the bar.

"I'd like a bottle of our best champagne for my new friends please!" She requested, leaning across the bar.

"What happened to your awards dinner?" Roxy replied, raising an eyebrow. Ronnie shrugged.

"We had a better offer." She smirked. "What are you doing behind there anyway?"

"We're short staffed." She sighed, shaking her head.

"Well, if you're desperate, let me know." Ronnie offered, receiving a laugh from Roxy.

"I don't think you're really in a position to be much help..." She sighed, handing over a bottle of champagne. "Enjoy..."

"We will!" Ronnie called back, holding the bottle in the air as she approached the VIP lounge.

She found her new friends laughing hysterically in the booth where she'd left them.

"What are you two giggling about?" She questioned, sliding in beside Carla.

"Well, we were wondering what would happen if one of us actually won the award. And then we shared tales of the multiple times we've nearly run our businesses into the ground, and decided that we probably won't..." Charity explained, punctuated by giggles from Carla.

"Right..." Ronnie rolled her eyes, popping open the cork of the bottle.

"Shit..." She mumbled, looking at the empty table. "I've forgotten the glasses..."

Before she had a chance to stand, Charity had snatched the bottle.

"That, Ronald," She slurred, "is not a problem!" Bringing the bottle up to her lips, she took a long gulp, sending Carla into yet another fit of giggles.

Carla couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to let loose and have fun like this. It was like being a teenager all over again: with no responsibilities or cares in the world.

"Right, who fancies a dance?" Charity jumped up from the seat, pulling Carla along with her before she could protest. Ronnie took a swig of champagne before standing up to join them.

They pushed through the doors into the rammed club, strutting onto the dance floor like they owned the place.

The youngsters on the dance floor cleared a space for the three of them; young lads trying to rub against them, only to receive almighty death glares in response.

They danced and sang and laughed for what felt like hours; unaware of anything happening around them. It felt as though they'd known each other forever.

Carla felt a hand around her wrist. She turned to find that Charity was its owner.

"If I jump anymore I'm gonna piss myself..." She shouted into Carla's ear, the sound dulled by the pounding bass of the music.

"Come on then..." She stated, tapping Ronnie. "Where are the loos?"

"Over there." Ronnie gestured, vaguely, still shouting to be heard over the music.

"Right." Carla nodded, pulling a stumbling Charity away from the dance floor, and towards the general direction that Ronnie had pointed.

They found the toilets quite quickly. Carla stopped in front of a mirror, pulling her lipstick out of her clutch and applying it carefully to her lips. She had mastered the ability to perfectly apply lipstick despite the room spinning around her.

"That is so much better..." Charity shouted from the stall. She stumbled out and over to where Carla was stood by the mirror. She draped her arms around the brunettes neck and rested her chin on her shoulder.

"You're really pretty..." Charity stated, taking in the sight before her in the mirror.

"Thanks. So are you." Carla replied, stroking her new friends cheek.

"Is it me, or is it really hot in here?" Charity returned to an upright position, washing her hands, before splashing water onto the back of her neck.

"Maybe we should go outside for a bit. My ears are ringing." Carla suggested, holding out her arm for Charity to link. The two women held each other up as they staggered back out into the club.

They spotted Ronnie by the bar, talking animatedly to a similar looking blonde on the other side.

"We're heading outside. Wanna join us?" Carla asked. Ronnie glanced at Roxy, who shook her head.

"I'm drowning here, Ron." She pleaded. Ronnie sighed.

"Roxy needs me here." She stated. "But you go. I'll meet you out there if I get chance later. Oh, and take another bottle with you." She pointed to a bottle of champagne on a shelf behind the bar, which Roxy retrieved for them, along with two glasses. "On the house." Ronnie added, upon seeing Carla reach into her bag.

The cool September air hit them as soon as they exited the club. They leant up against the wall outside until their legs gave way, forcing them to sit on the pavement. This, of course, sent them into another uncontrollable fit of giggles.

Carla dug around in her bag for her mobile, suddenly remembering that she'd promised Peter regular updates of her evening. She pulled out the device, and gasped as the screen lit up.

"Oh my god, it's past midnight!" She exclaimed. "Does that make us dirty stop outs?"

"No, it's not!" Charity slurred in disbelief.

"Yeah, look!" Carla replied, shining the screen in Charity's direction. She glanced down, squinting at the sudden bright light. She caught sight of the time first: _00:36_. Following that, her eyes drifted towards the date. As she caught sight of it, her stomach dropped.

She suddenly wished more than anything that Vanessa was here. Sure, she'd enjoyed Carla's company, but she was in no way a suitable replacement for the love of her life. She suddenly became aware of Carla's gaze focussed on her. Pouring champagne into her glass, she tried to shrug off the feeling of dread snaking through her.

"I'd like to propose a toast..." She said, filling Carla's glass. "To fresh starts and new beginnings." She slurred. She refused to let him ruin her life any longer. Carla raised an eyebrow.

"Right, whats prompted that then?" She questioned, noting the sudden change in the blonde woman's disposition. Charity sighed, not taking her eyes off the glass in her hands. _A problem shared is a problem halved_, Vanessa had always told her.

"A year ago today I got my rapist sent down." She stated, dryly. Carla was taken aback.

"You say that like it's a bad thing..." She whispered, hesitantly. Charity let out a pained laugh, shaking her head.

"A whole year ago. That's one year closer to him getting out..."

"How long did he get?" Carla whispered, shifting slightly where she was sat.

"30 years. Like that makes up for anything. You stand up in court and have the defence paint you to be some sort of whore that was asking for it, only for him to get 30 measly years in prison, which he'll probably only have to serve half of, at the most. And they call that justice." Charity spat. No amount of prison time could ever make up for the years he stole from her.

"At least you got justice..." Carla mumbled, a little too loudly. Charity turned, a horrified look struck across her face.

"Sorry?" She hissed, clearly hurt and offended.

"God, no. Nothing. Sorry, that was insensitive." Carla backtracked, absolutely not wanting to go into anything now.

"No. Say what you were gonna say." Charity pushed, her anger ebbing away ever so slightly. Carla sighed.

"Try taking all of that, only to be told you're a liar at the end." Carla stated, bitterly. Charity thought for a moment, before settling back down against the wall. She took Carla's hand in hers, and downed her champagne.

"How long ago?" She asked, her voice more gentle this time.

"8 years next week." Carla sighed, shaking her head.

"Is he still around?"

"No. He was killed a few months later." Carla said, absentmindedly. "You know, it sounds awful, but I wish he hadn't been. I wish he'd have had to live with what he did to me. Sometimes I think he got the easy way out..."

"Who killed him?" Charity asked, eyes wide. Carla snorted.

"His mother."

"Right..."

"When she killed him, she knew what he'd done. I just wish she'd have gone to the police, told them what she'd heard. I don't know, maybe things would have been different. Maybe I'd have got some sort of justice."

"Wait... What was his name?" Charity asked.

"Frank. Frank Foster. Why?" Carla said, slowly, unsure as to why this information was of interest.

"I think I remember reading about that. His mum killing him, I mean. Or maybe I saw it on the news... I don't know, it just rang a bell."

"Right..."

"That was the worst part for me. Having it all plastered across the papers. All of my neighbours reading about all the gory details..." Charity reminisced. It was Carla's turn to squeeze her hand.

"I didn't tell anyone about it for years, and then suddenly it became common knowledge. Everyone looking at you with pity, like you're some sort of victim. I hate it." Charity continued.

"Yep..." Carla replied, absentmindedly, knowing full well how that felt.

They sat in silence for a while, each woman thinking of their own separate trauma, yet feeling somewhat connected at the same time. After a few minutes, Charity spoke.

"Men are pigs..." She breathed. Carla giggled.

"Yep."

"You know, I've had six weddings and not a single one has gone well..." She slurred. Carla laughed, heartily.

"I can't say I've had that many, but I reckon I could match you on level of disaster..." Carla smirked, clinking her glass against Charity's.

"Ooh, I love a challenge. You go first!" Charity stated, leaning back into the wall. Carla cleared her throat.

"Well, first of all there was my husband, Paul. He was sleeping with prostitutes behind my back for the last three years of our marriage."

"Ooh..." Charity was clearly interested.

"Then there was Liam. His brother. We didn't last very long because he was seeing my friend Maria. I really loved him, but we knew it could never work, so instead I married Tony. He was Scottish." She added, as if this information was of the utmost importance. "Long story short, he had Liam killed, escaped from prison and held me hostage in my own factory. I managed to escape just as the building went up in smoke, with him inside it."

"Right..." Charity stated, engrossed in the story.

"Then came Frank-"

"The rapist?" Charity interjected. Carla nodded.

"Then there was Peter, who had an affair with a girl half his age, and then got sent down for her murder." Carla watched as Charity's eyes widened. "But don't worry, he didn't do it."

"Okay..."

"It was my brother." Carla stated, a smirk reaching her lips.

"Oh my god." Charity was very rarely speechless, but on this occasion she was very close. Carla laughed.

"Top that..." She smirked, refilling Charity's glass.

"Okay then." Charity shifted, once again sitting up right. "My first husband was Chris. He killed himself in front of me and made it look like I'd done it. Then there was Tom, who jilted me at the altar. Then came Michael, who had an affair with my daughter."

"Ouch..." Carla whispered.

"Then there was Jai, who had a baby with his cleaner while we were married, and then locked me up in a shipping container for a week when I couldn't tell him where his precious son was after I'd paid her to move away."

"Jesus..."

"And then there was Declan. He took me into a deserted woods and tried to kill me. Twice." Charity stated, smugly.

"Who was the sixth?" Carla pondered aloud. Charity shot her a confused glance. "You said six weddings. That was only five."

"Oh right yeah. Well, before Jai there was Cain, Debbie, my eldest's dad.. We were off and on more than a light switch. It's probably for the best that we didn't get married actually, seeing as he's my cousin."

"Right..." Carla stated, unsure what to make of that revelation. At least when she'd been with Paul and Liam she hadn't known they were related. And very distantly, at that.

"I think perhaps we should call it a draw..." Carla chuckled. Charity snorted.

"Do you think Ronald's had this much bad luck?" She asked. Carla thought for a moment.

"Doubt it. She seems so..."

"Boring?" Charity pressed. Carla rolled her eyes.

"I was going to say ordinary. Although she did drink to going to prison..." Carla pointed out.

"Maybe we'll get the chance to ask her later." Charity mused.

"Shit. I was meant to text Peter hours ago..." Carla scolded herself, pulling her phone out again.

"Peter? The one who had the affair?" Charity asked, confused.

"You don't miss anything, you..." Carla laughed. "Yes, that Peter."

"So, he's back on the scene?" Charity pushed, eager to talk about something more uplifting.

"You could say that, yeah..." Carla smirked. Charity raised an eyebrow.

"Well either he is or he isn't..."

"Okay, yes. We are an item again. But that is a fairly recent development."

"Alright, but if he hurts you-"

"Jesus, Charity. I get enough of this from Michelle." Carla rolled her eyes. "I think you two would get on well. What about you? You have a ring on your finger, I see." She prodded, hoping Charity would embrace a change of subject.

"Yep. Engaged to the most wonderful person I've ever met..." Charity smiled, leaning her head back against the wall once again. "Her name is Vanessa and she is the light of my life." She sighed, the alcohol making her soppy.

"Sounds like she makes you very happy." Carla smiled.

"I've escaped!" Ronnie chanted, approaching the pair cuddled up on the pavement together. "Christ, you girls must be freezing." She stated, crossing her arms against her chest. The pair on the floor could only giggle.

"I should probably get back to my hotel..." Carla stated, stumbling to her feet. She held out a hand for Charity to take. She pulled her up, laughing hysterically as Charity lost her balance and collapsed into her.

"Right, and where abouts is that?" Ronnie asked. Carla thought for a moment, alcohol clouding her memory.

"Do you know what, I have absolutely no idea..."

Charity laughed. "Me neither."

"Look, why don't you come back to mine?" Ronnie suggested. "It's just around the corner. We can have a night cap, and you can stay in the spare room."

Charity and Carla looked at each other, before turning back to Ronnie.

"I think we'd like that very much."


End file.
